


All Dogs Go To Heaven

by rachelladytietjenswrites (heliophilenz)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Zoe!verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 12:17:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10764111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heliophilenz/pseuds/rachelladytietjenswrites
Summary: A loose end gets tied up during a confrontation with Crowley.(Sorry, anything more would spoil it.)





	All Dogs Go To Heaven

 

She didn’t know how long she had been running with the pack.

She knew that she was the newest member. The others were older, unthinkingly vicious. She didn’t quite fit in, but every day it became a little easier to let go and just obey. Run. Hunt. Kill.

“Juliet! Bella! Daisy!” She stepped into the between, appearing with her sisters next to Master in his den. There were strangers here. Two that were somehow familiar, but that might have been the fear she scented rolling off them. The last one was smaller, female, and somehow different?

Creeping closer the hound scented deeply. The human couldn’t see her, but somehow it felt her, turning as she circled. She whimpered as she crawled closer.

It was the whimper that pulled Crowley’s attention away from Sam and Dean. He was used to all-but-ignoring most humans, but only the terminally stupid underestimated the Winchesters. They were among the very few that warranted his complete focus. Hence the hellhounds, to watch his back.

But this. This was ridiculous. “Zoe!” he shouted, “What are you doing?”

Sam and Dean whipped around wide-eyed to where Zoe was crouched, seemingly reaching out to nothing. “Fuck.” “Zoe!”

Zoe shrugged, but didn’t move. “Just curious. They’re fascinating.”

“They’re supposed to be bloody terrifying,” Crowley protested. “The worst of the worst beg to be hounds.”

Dean lurched towards Zoe, stopped only by a growl from directly in front of him. He froze in terror at the stink of fetid breath so close it’s warmth was dampening his chest.

“I wouldn’t if I were you, Dean. Juliet did so enjoy the last time she got to play with you.”

Sam tugged Dean back to his side, unable to hide the swallow he took before asking, “The worst of the worst?”

Crowley watched Zoe as he replied. “Please, I do run Hell, remember? If I gave people what they wanted, I’d be doing it wrong, wouldn’t I?” He looked smugly at the piece of nothing he had called Juliet, “Besides, it’s a punishment eminently suited to loners and ‘cat people’.”

Turning back to Sam and Dean he said, “Shaggy, Scooby, if you can’t rein in Velma here, I can’t be held responsible for what happens.”

Sam tried to coax her away with an outstretched hand. “Zoe, please?” But when he took a step towards her, snarls began to echo from all sides.

“Not a good idea, boys,” Crowley said. Sighing, he shook his head. “Let’s get down to business, and if she gets bitten it’s her own damn fault.”

 

The one who smelt of _different_ sat, legs out straight and patting the concrete floor beside her. The hound slithered over, tentatively tucking her head under the outstretched arm, nosing into her hand. The tiny hand moved, slowly stroking her, fingers caressing velvet ears and giving occasional scritches.

The hound huffed at the affection, gently tipping her head onto _different’s_ lap, lying flank to flank and relaxing under her touch.

“You’re different to the others, aren’t you?” The words didn’t quite make sense to the hound, but the tone was gentle and the touch hadn’t stopped, so she ignored them. _Different_ looked up at Master and the others, then pulled a funny-smelling bag out of it’s pocket, whispering, “I’ve been working on something.”

The hound didn’t understand what happened next, only that she smelt _different’s_ blood just before a firmer, more deliberate touch, and syllables that wrenched at her insides. She didn’t even have time to stand before she convulsed once, then died.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Crowley shouts.

Zoe is wide-eyed and scrambling backwards, watching an empty space where gouges are being dug into the flagstones. “I- I-”

The room goes deathly quiet for a heartbeat before the other hounds start to howl. Not a complaint, not a call to the pack, but the sustained mournful howl of deathsong.

Crowley’s face goes red. “She’s DEAD!,” he shouts, zapping them away before he loses his temper and does something irrevocable.

 

Shrugging off the boys’ concern, Zoe retreats to the motel bathroom. Bracing herself on the sink she stares into the mirror and says ‘gah-nah-harm-dah’. She silently doubles over as the pain of completing the second trial washes her world to actinic white.

 

The hound is in a room without walls. White, antiseptic. Empty.

After seconds - or years, who could tell - a door that wasn’t there opens and a dapper man dressed in a grey suit steps through. “And who have we here?” The functionary checks his clipboard, finally tapping his pen on a name. “Of course, Bela Talbot. Please take your time, it’s understandable that you require a period of readjustment after your time as a hellhound.”

“Wha- W- How?” she said hoarsely.

“It appears your contract has been voided due to multiple technicalities.” He flips through the papers on his clipboard, hmm-ing when he finds a specific report. “Information just received has revealed that not only was there no full disclosure of terms, but that you were legally a minor when the contract was made.

"These circumstances not only nullify the contract, but they have also provided a defence of unfair duress and influence, resulting in diminished responsibility that mitigates the actions you took whilst alive. Therefore your damnation has been rescinded.”

“What?”

“Welcome to Heaven, Miss Talbot.”


End file.
